


Tony Stark's Sanctuary for Superheroes

by Theseastar



Series: After The War [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, Crush at First Sight, Darcy Lewis is Tony Stark's Daughter, Feels, Fluff, Forgiveness, Letters, Love Letters, No It's Really Cute, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Romance, Someone stop me!, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Owns A Farm, everyone is sorry, i love it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:29:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6973135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theseastar/pseuds/Theseastar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.<br/>and love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.<br/>Get over your hill and see what you find there,<br/>With grace in your heart, and flowers in your hair."<br/>After the Storm - Mumford and Sons</p><p>Or: </p><p>Tony Stark owns a farm. Everyone is sorry. Steve has an awkward crush. Darcy is the glue. Chaos ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Tony Stark’s Sanctuary for Superhero's

The Beginning of the End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Dear Steve Rogers,_

_I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of finding you through your regular pizza guy (Pepperoni with extra olives? That’s blasphemy. Those little black devils don’t belong anywhere near a pizza.) I’ve written and re-written this letter a thousand times, and to be honest, It still probably isn’t right. I guess I needed to write this letter to sort my thoughts, about you and about my dad. You want in on a little secret? I wasn’t really close to my dad until what happened with you guys happened. That’s the God’s honest truth. I think my dad has had it in his head, that everything he touched, went to ruin. Only after the Invasion did we really, really start to talk and not just yell at each other. We spent a lifetime not understanding each other. I think that’s a pretty accurate description of your relationship with him too, right? Like you know him, but you only know the frustrating side of him. But part of me is willing to bet that you saw the side of him that I get to see now, the selfless side, the vulnerable side. I have lived a lifetime of wishing things could be black and white, I have lived an existence of watching things be too complicated. I think that’s where things got with the two of you. In a lot of ways, Steve Rogers, I like to think that you and I are one in the same. Although we probably couldn’t be different in personality, I think we were both looking for the same thing. And I don’t think we’re ever going to find it. I couldn’t image what it must be like to see Bucky. I mean, we’ve all read about him and you in the history books, but there’s something unreal about the whole thing._

_But who am I to tell you? I’m sure that like me, running across the street to save my pet turtle when I was four years old, you kind of walked with blinders on, all you wanted was your best friend. And all that I wanted was my turtle. I didn’t seem my mom running after me, I didn’t see her getting hit by the car, I only saw my turtle. The car didn’t kill her, just like Bucky didn’t kill the Avengers. But after the fuss died down, my mom had to go in for a scan, and they found something on her brain. It wasn’t a fracture, or a concussion. It was tumor. If I had never run across the street, for my own selfish desires, my mom never would have discovered her Tumor. I used to think it a curse, but I know if it hadn’t been discovered then it would have killed her sooner. She lived for six more years. Some things happen, because they you have to expose the weak part. You have to take off the first step to see the rotted inside of the basement._

_I think that’s what happened with you and Dad._

_I guess I wanted you to know that Dad forgives you, he does. But this has to be a lesson for you. Bottom line, Steve Rogers, you acted like a jerk. A selfish jerk. You cannot run about willy nilly doing things to your moral code, and your standard. That doesn’t set you far from the people you fight, who fight for THEIR own cause. I’m not saying you need to stop saving the world, I think though, you need to ask yourself why you keep doing it, and then you need to look at the destruction you leave in your wake. My dad may have forgiven you, but I don’t know if I will. Not that it matters to you, however when you have the time, you should know, you’re welcome to get your Shield and your Friends arm back. We don’t want them._

_Sincerely,_

_Darcy Lewis-Stark_

_Stark Industries_

_Assistant CEO_

_Head of Design_

_Phone (***)897-6565 ex. 4556_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He watched with a strange anxious feeling in his chest as Fury read the letter, between sips of coffee his lips would curl into a secretive little smile that made Steve want to itch all over. It seemed that Fury had read the letter twice before he set it down and refilled his cup of coffee. “So.. what do you think?” He asked Fury, who was stirring in what looked like 30 sugar packets into his coffee.

“How’s the team?” That was, the last thing he expected Fury to say. But Fury was the king of ignoring the question he was asked and it didn’t surprise Steve one bit that he was projecting.

“They’re fine. Wanda’s .. doing better.” He admitted. And admittedly so, she had been the concern. She had decided, after everything happened it would be better if she just didn’t use her powers. There was no one to train her to use them, and she didn’t know the extent of them, so instead she started to learn tech. That didn’t mean, however that her emotional instability didn’t cause an outburst every so often. Since they were in such close quarters, fighting was natural among to the group. But it seemed as of late they were always at each other’s throats. Especially between Natasha and Wanda, who couldn’t be bigger opposites. Wanda didn’t appreciate Natasha’s secretive attitude and Natasha didn’t trust Wanda. So it caused for many a tense dinner.

“Good. Good. And my spies?” He asked. Natasha and Clint were well. Clint stayed home with his kids during the week and would help out on the weekends, which was good for his mentality. Bad for Natasha’s though.

“They’re okay.” He said, he would avoid the word _‘good’_ where they were concerned.

“And the apartment?” Fury had set them up with a sort of apartment complex. It was small, way too cramped for the amount of superhero’s that were in there, but it was well. It would be better if everyone could stop getting into fights and throwing each other through walls, however.

“It’s … _okay_ .. too.” He said. He wouldn’t admit ‘good’ on that one too.

“So you’ve called me here why?” Fury asked, taking a big gulp of his coffee, adjusting in his seat. It was weird, and uncomfortable to see Fury in clothes that weren’t leather. He was in what looked like a suit, slacks, and a button down, and a hate over his bald head, which clashed a little strangely with his eye patch.

“To let you see the letter.” He’d felt bad about it, but he’d hidden the letter. He didn’t know if it was because of shame or guilt or whatever, but he wanted this to himself. He’d seen enough of their worrying looks to last him a lifetime. But he knew he had to do something about it, and he had to do something about Bucky’s arm. And to be honest, he missed his Shield. He’d had another one made for him, in Wakanda, but it wasn’t the same. It was heavier, and it didn’t… respond the same. He’d tried to explain it to Sam, but the man had just looked at him like he was crazy.

“This letter is important to you.” Fury stated, there was no question to it.

“I-I m-m-mean ..”

“Darcy Lewis is important to you.” Steve huffed out his nose. He knew he had two options, the first was to deny the whole thing. _‘No! she’s just a woman who sent me a letter. I mean I felt bad about her dad, but…_ ’ just shrug it off. Or there was option two, just open up, be honest. _‘Yes, I stalk her on the internet. I printed a picture of her, her opinion of me makes me writhe in shame.’_ Instead, he chose to shrug.

“When you google someone twice a day, it shows up in our system. You are on our phones.” Fury pointed down to Steve’s phone which was blinking rapidly on the table.

“These aren’t Stark Phones. We can trace every call down to the latitude and longitude and how far you held the phone to your face.” Steve blinked a bit at that, he knew they weren’t Stark Phones. You couldn’t talk to them and have them fly a helicopter back to you. They were in simpler, humble times. Which was how life was after living in the luxury of Stark Tower.

“Right.” He thought, he knew his face must be as red as the vinyl seats.

“That.” Fury snorted,

“Yeah, that.”

“It’s not what you think” Steve begged.

“I’m sure it’s not.” Fury said, his voice dry as the dessert, clearly unbelieving.

“How’s Barnes?” Fury switched the conversation, and while the previous topic made him uncomfortable this one made him … wary. People had mixed reactions when it came to Bucky. “He’s doing well” He went with honesty, Fury would be able to see right through him.

“We’ve had a few lapses, not violent, just… generally forgetting who he is, and where he is.” Those were painful times. Holding his best friend as he shook and vomited and plead for his freedom. Those were the hard times, those were the times where he wanting nothing more than to remove the beans from a punching bag, or the brains from a Hydra soldier. “But overall?”

“He’s good. He’s actually fit to do some light training, he’s getting some strength back in his flesh arm.”

“And the prosthetic?” In Wakanda, they had given them a replacement prosthetic, but it was weak in comparison with Bucky’s super serum advanced body. It wasn’t strong enough to do the things that he could do. He’d broken three fingers on it during the first two hours! So it was a multitude of trial and error.

“I see. So, Rogers. What do you want me to do about this?” Fury tapped his finger on the letter, which had been put back in the envelope. Fury wasn’t one to beat around the bush, and Steve guessed that’s what he liked about the man. He wasn’t about to lie to you, he might be indirect with the truth, but if you asked him outright, he might just tell you.

“Well she said I could have my Shield and Bucky’s arm…” He trailed off, he could see the wheels in Fury’s head turning.

“And this connects back to me how?”

“I don’t know if you’ve talked to Tony, but I need him to get a message, and I need to get her a message too. So I wrote this.” He dug around in his pocket for the folded up envelope. He put in on the table next to Darcy’s letter.

“Alright. I do this, what’s in it for me?” Fury asked. Steve squinted his eyes at Fury.

“I’ll get Scott and Sam to stop prank calling Shield.” He said, that was his ace.

Fury didn’t even hesitate, “Deal.”

 

 

 

 

 

For Darcy, the letter arrived on a Thursday, which was one of the busiest days on the farm. Since she and Pepper weren’t around the help out (i.e. force the boys out of the lab to do chores.) so once they got back and got to doing a full days work, there was a lot to do. Generally there always was a lot to do, the farming machines they had created had done a lot of good, but still, the farm was way more than they could handle most days, there was simply so much to do. And the ongoing construction on the small cottages across the farm were coming along. Bruce was working on his, and Peter was convinced he was getting one of his own _(fat chance kid who can’t make a grilled cheese_ ) and Darcy wanted on of her own. The two bedroom eco friendly cottages were a long time dream of hers – there arctitecual design was perfection. And since they surrounded the farm like a cul-de-sac the farm was protected. And so were they. Under Vision and Jarvis – who had recently been reinstated – watchful eye. She was busy with design at work on the cottages, and the eco-friendly apartments and furniture that Stark Industries was working on. So when she was informed by Vision while she was out testing the soil and picking berries that she had a letter from a one ‘ **Steven Grant Rogers’** – she snatched the thing out his hand, planted her ass on the soil and tore the thing open with her small knife.

It read:

 

 

 

    _Dear Darcy Lewis-Stark,_

_I have to say, first of all, your judgement of my pizza is unfounded and cruel. I didn’t have olives in the 40’s – I had them when I was in France and their salty deliciousness (Is that a word?) Drew me in. Also feeding all these people is like throwing corn in the petting zoo cage at the zoo – you just hope some of them like it enough to eat it. So that’s the reason for the olives. To be honest I’m really happy you sent me that letter. Darcy Lewis, this is going to sound weird, and I’m going to regret telling you this if I ever have the honor of meeting you, but I’ve been watching you. (Oh my God that was so creepy, I just wrote that in pen, and that is so creepy and I am so sorry) But it’s true. I admire you, a bit, a lot of a bit. Because I think you’re right about most things, but I think there’s something that you don’t see. You Darcy Lewis, are like the moon. You should see the way that people look at you. People look at you like they can’t help it. It’s like when you look in the sky and automatically search for the moon. See the moon, is different than the sun. The moon you can look at and know your eyes won’t be damaged. People radiate to you. You should see the way that Bruce looks at you, like you gifted yourself on his front door. I’ve never seen Tony look at anything the way he looks at you. To be clear, I’m not following you, I’ve read your magazine interviews. That’s all. That’s it._

_I’m going to be honest here, and say that I’m not sorry for what happened. I feel guilt for what happened, I do. But I’m not sorry. The turtle analogy, that’s right. You’re right. It all had to happen, I wish it didn’t happen the way it did. I wish that I could have seen the fallout, predicted it, stopped it. I will forever be sorry for what happened. But I don’t regret it. Because Bucky has done horrible things, but he didn’t do it because he wanted too. Which I know you know, and I know you understand. But I also don’t know what it’s like to be in your position. I should have told Tony, I should have showed him before he had to watch that awful video. But I didn’t. I don’t regret not signing the accords, but I do regret not coming up with a better one. We shouldn’t just get to go out whenever we want. But I don’t think the federal government should get to decide (I noticed that Political Science was one of your majors. Perhaps you would be able to help out with the writing of a new ‘Accord?’ just a thought. Also maybe an excuse to get you to talk to me some more, you take as you will.) Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a perfect man. I’m not a person who is able to see a situation and instantly do the right thing, I’m a human man, who makes human mistakes._

_Your father meant a lot to me, he was a mentor and a friend. Probably one of the best friends I’ve ever had. And I ruined that, I stomped that. But he could have done better too, and I’m sure he’d admit that. One day I’d like to be able to sit across the table from him again, that’s a goal. That’s one of my goals. My only goal this week is to get Sam and Scott off my back, ya know? I also sent this letter because you said I could have my Shield back. I’d like it back. Your grandfather made it for me, to do with what I thought was right. And I’ve done that, but In the time, I’ve also grown, and while I’ve not had the Shield, I’ve had to grow some more. And hopefully I’ve grown enough that I’m worthy of it again. To wear those colors again. But I don’t think Bucky should get his arm back, not until he’s at a more stable place, and we also don’t know how to put it back on. So those are complications. Hopefully complications we can talk about in the next letter, or perhaps over a meal some time? Too soon .. I understand. I’m including in this my personal phone number, and address – this time you don’t have to frisk the pizza guy – and hopefully you’ll use it. And in the off chance you’ll show this to Tony. I’d like to leave him a message too._

_Tony: I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t the friend you deserved, I’m sorry things didn’t go better. But if you’re willing to make the steps to make things right, then so am I. My number, my home – is yours, do with it what you will._

 

_With respect and the utmost impatience,_

 

_Steven Grant Rogers._


	2. All Time Low

Tony Stark’s Sanctuary for Super Hero’s

 

 

_All Time Low_

_I, yeah, I've been trying to fix my pride_

_But that shit's broken, that shit's broken_

_(Jon Bellion)_

 

 

The diner was a place that he loved, which was why he picked it. The plush red vinyl seats, the smell of pie crust and meatloaf, milkshakes, it was an iconic scene. It was also a safe space for him. He tried to eat there a couple times a week, the people didn’t talk to him, they had a good dinner special, and he could be alone for a while. The apartment got crowded, to say the least. And more often than not he was surrounded by people. Which wasn’t a bad thing, but it did get exhausting to not have your own space.

Bucky was mostly attached at the hip to him, which was to be expected. But in this booth, in this time, this was his space. And for a few moments, it would be their space. He dug his fork into the loaf and took a hearty bite. He could feel eyes blaring into the back of his head, the familiar gaze of Natasha, she had come as his “back up” Even though he insisted he didn’t need any. But she was always there. In moments of honesty he would say she was his best friend. Yeah, he had Bucky. God he had Bucky, but Bucky hadn’t been himself. And Honestly, Steve wasn’t himself. He was a different man than what Bucky knew. And Bucky was a different man. They had to get to know each other on these other layers, beyond these new walls. Bucky was his brother. But Natasha, she was his friend.

He finished his dinner, checked his watch, she still had ten minutes until she had to be here. So he gestured for the waitress to take his plate. He asked for a whiskey, neat, and a slice of apple pie and waited. While he waited he patted the letter in his breast pocket, soothed his slacks and button down. He had dressed in his Sunday best that was sure. Black slacks, navy blue button up, matte black tie. He wet his hair back out of his face. His face which was sporting a small cut above the brow at the moment. He probed it, felt that it was mostly healed and forgot about it again. Bucky still wasn’t good at sparring, he was still too rough. He may not have had his metal arm, the main weapon he was trained to use, but he was still lethal. He didn’t understand his own strength.

He had dressed nice on the off chance that _she_ would be the one to deliver the shield. And while he had played off the excuse to Natasha, something along the lines of just wanting to dress nice for once, he wasn’t fooling himself. Part of him hoped, prayed even, that Darcy Lewis would come. He wanted to see her so badly, but the other half of him, hoped and prayed she stayed away. Because what if he couldn’t take the judgement in her eyes, what if her eyes were full of dislike and distrust for him? He didn’t know if he would be able to handle that, because somewhere along the line his moral compass shifted a little to the left and pointed toward Darcy Lewis, and he didn’t know why.

Most of him knew it was ludicrous for him to feel this connected to someone he had never met. But her letter had struck a chord in him, played a song just he could hear. The door to the diner opened, and for a moment Steve held his breath.

Because he thought it would be her, but he was no less surprised when Bruce Banner walked in the door.

 

 

 

Bruce shuffled up to his table in his normal shy, edgy walk. His hair was longer, and less grey. He had a little facial scuff. His dark eyes were a sea of the unknown. Steve could never tell how Bruce felt. His eyes didn’t betray him like the rest of the world. He wondered if that was because Bruce felt things that no one else did, because he had a birds eye view on the world. He was wearing dark black slacks and an eggplant button down as was tradition. But there was something different about him. Something in the way his shoulders rolled instead of tensed, something in the way that his eyes were wide and not wrinkled, the little sun on his skin.

He was holding behind him a backpack. And Steve knew what was in the backpack, he had felt the baring of it in is bones. The shield called to him, like a master to its dog. With it so close, he remembered how much he missed it, how much of a part of his life it defined.

But he also knew what it symbolized, the shield for him wasn’t something to protect him, it wasn’t something that he just used to bat away bullets, robots and aliens. It was his curtain. He had hid behind the shield since he got it, and long before that he hid behind garbage lids, pans, and boots, anything to hold in front of his face. But the shield had been different, it had been a curtain for the outside world. Because Steve Rogers was not Captain America, and they were not interchangeable, he was starting to see that perhaps they were even two different people.

Bruce put the backpack down first and then slid in in front of him in the booth.

“Hey Steve.” He said, he gave a finger wave the waitress who was walking around with iced tea. She sat it down in front of him and shuffled away.

“Bruce… I.. didn’t expect you.” Steve said finally, looking at his old friend. It had been even longer since he had seen this man. Since before the domestic dispute in the Avengers, and he wondered what Bruce thought of all of this.

“Yeah, I thought I would be the one to bring it. Tony and Darcy are engaged in some kind of prank war and I wanted to leave them to it, Pepper’s down the street. We needed some stuff for the house anyway.” He said, causally twirling his straw around.

“So Br-“

“You look stressed.” Steve looked up from where his eyes had been glued on the Formica table. Bruce was looking at him in a way that made Steve think he saw right through him, he wondered for a moment if Bruce could see the writhing in his chest, the longing.

“I … am, unbelievably so. But. We shouldn’t talk about that. We should talk about you, how are you?” He rambled, because Bruce was looking into his bones, making him feel all the more exposed.

“I’m as well as a giant green monster in a man could be, Steve.” Steve looked at him, really looked at him. Bruce was the most transparent of all the people he’d met. He was like freshly washed glass. All Bruce wanted was peace, and solitude and maybe a glass of tea. He wasn’t all that complicated, even though perhaps he had more right to be than any of them.

“Part of the reason I wanted to do this was because, well, I want you to know that I don’t blame you. For anything. I never have. I was angry at first, at both of you, hell, all of you. But I don’t blame you.”

“You should.” Steve murmured. “Bruce, you should. I was selfish. I created this, I’m not saying Tony had no part. He did. We all did. We all stirred the pot bu-“

“Steve. You take too much on yourself.” Silence. The bell to the door dinged again in those silent moments and he didn’t even have to look up from where he was burning a hole in the table to know that it was Pepper Pots, and if shame had a color it would be Steve Rogers blue.

“Steve.” She said, her voice clear and calm. He looked up at her, and much like Bruce, she seemed to have de-aged. Her hair was recently highlighted, her skin tan, her eyes wide and bright, and surprisingly, she had a smile on her face.

“Steve. It’s good to see you, I just came to fetch Bruce. We’ve got an appointment, he and I.” She said, ever the elegant.

Steve and Bruce both stood, and Steve felt like he was taking up too much space, breathing too much air, because it was all too real. It was easy to pretend nothing happened when he locked himself away in the apartment, but here, in this moment, what he lost was all too real.

Bruce handed him the backpack, “You can keep it.” He said with a small smirk. “I left my number in there, in case you, or anyone else” His eyes shifted behind Steve to Natasha. “Wants to call. Don’t hesitate.”

The two of them about turned away before Pepper stopped, “Wait, I knew I was forgetting something, she would have killed me.” Pepper dug around in her tote bag for a moment and retrieved a yellowed envelope.

“Darcy couldn’t make it, but she wanted me to deliver this to you before we took our leave.” Pepper said. He took the letter with gentle hand, was careful not to bend it and held it loosely in his hand. He tried mostly to pretend that his heart felt like it was sweating bullets.

“Thank you Pepper, and Bruce… It was …. Great to see you again.” He said, choked really. As the two of them left the building he sat back down into the booth and tore into the letter, his eyes devouring every word.

 

 

_Dear Steve Rogers,_

_It doesn’t make me happy to say that I understand you Steven Grant Rogers. It doesn’t help that I’ve spent a lot of time vilifying you in my head, it’s getting harder and harder I’ll admit with everyone telling me I don’t have to. When I was fourteen years old I got in this huge fight with my dad. I wanted to go to winter formal. I had finally gotten asked on a date. The first date I ever got, I was an awkward kid with braces and zits and everything else and I wanted to go out with a boy. My dad got me tickets to fly out and see him in New York, so we get in this huge fight over the phone. I tell him I hate him, I don’t want to talk to him ever again, blah, blah, blah – all that. And I didn’t regret it, even after we made up, years later, I didn’t regret it. But it dawned on me, some years ago as an adult in college I began to regret it. And it was only then that I realized it was actually just because I was sorry, I had never been sorry, even though I said it._

_Because I was guilty._

_I’m saying this to you because you said to me that you don’t feel guilty and I think, Steve Rogers, that that is wrong. I think you are guilty, I think you are drowning in guilt. Aren’t you? Steve Rogers I see right through you, both of you. I have a theory about you, and you can never talk to me again after I say this to you but Steve Roger’s you aren’t who you think you are (I almost lost myself there) You are guilty, you are tired, and I bet you’re lonely. I don’t think you’re guilty about the accords, but I know you’re guilty about Tony, and Bucky, and the team. Because you thought they were your responsibility, and they aren’t. People aren’t. That’s the whole point of this, you don’t have to parent everyone Steve Rogers. You are not in charge of everyone, only yourself, so please – do me a favor and just take responsibility for yourself._

_Be guilty, it’s okay, and be sorry, it’s okay._

_And you’re wrong. I’m not the moon, I’m tired and I’m guilty, I am a flawed, bumpy person just like everyone else. But thank you, you make it hard to think of you like a villain in my head. My dad says you’re not the villain though – he said you could never be a villain. I think he’s wrong though, I think there’s a little villain in all of us._

_Enjoy your shield, do the right thing with it,_

_Sincerely, Darcy Lewis._

 

_P.S. Have Natasha call Bruce, I think they have some unfinished business? I don’t know. But tell her that I said that if she hurts his feelings, I’m coming for her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it has been too long, I promise I didn't abandon my stories! So please let me know what you think! 
> 
> I do not own Avengers! Of course Marvel owns everything and Job Bellion owns the song. What do you think his response letter will be like? Let me know in the comment section, all right!?

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing Marvel related. Drop me a note what do you think?


End file.
